


His Brother's Keeper

by JJJunky



Category: Young Riders
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 20:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJJunky/pseuds/JJJunky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tracking a wolf, Jimmy makes a bad shot and hits The Kid instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Brother's Keeper

This story was written for a zine where you took an episode from one show and put it in another show. I based this story on an episode from Bonanza.

His Brother's Keeper  
By JJJunky

 

Sweat rolled into Hickok's eyes making them burn. He blinked rapidly, trying to stop the stinging. He and the Kid had spent the entire day in these foothills hunting a mountain lion that had attacked the herd. In the latest strike, Yammi's foul had been taken. They'd found what was left of the carcass a mile from the ranch. Incensed, the Kid had proposed they hunt the animal down. Carried along in the wake of his friend's passionate plea, Jimmy had recklessly volunteered. It was a decision he deeply regretted.

Angrily berating himself, he miserably contemplated the desolate landscape. "I've had it!" he growled, reining in his horse. "Ya do what ya want, Kid. I'm headin' back."

"Have you forgotten what that cat did to Yammi's foal?" the Kid angrily demanded.

"I haven't forgotten anythin', including the fact Teaspoon gave us one day off from our chores to succeed or fail. The day's almost over, and we haven't seen a sign of that cat. We got work waitin' on us."

"Did ya hear that world?" the Kid mockingly shouted. "Jimmy Hickok wants ta work."

"Whatever Teaspoon's got for me ta do, it can't be no worse than tryin' ta track a ghost," Hickok tersely returned, wiping the sweat from his brow with his shirt sleeve. "We ain't seen one sign of that lion. If ya ask me, he's moved on."

"No," the Kid said, shaking his head, eyes restlessly scanning the rocky terrain. "He's here. I can feel 'im."

Hickok laid the right rein on his horse's neck and turned back down the trail. "I'm goin' home. When ya find that cat, give 'im my regards."

Heels dug into the palomino's side. The unexpected action made the horse leap to obey. Settling into the slow jog, Jimmy didn't look back. He couldn't. One look at the disappointed frown on the Kid's face would be enough to destroy his resolve. He wouldn't let that happen. He would never allow the Kid to manipulate him the way he did the others. James Butler Hickok would never submit to anyone's control.

Yowl!

Jimmy's horse shied, almost unseating him. The animal cry had come from the area he had just left. Wheeling, he urged his mount into a slow trot and drew his rifle. Normally, he preferred his sidearms, but a wild animal didn't move like the human variety. They were faster. A mountain lion could run beyond the range of his pistol in seconds.

Yowl!

He was closing in. His exhaustion disappeared in the excitement of the kill.

Yowl!

Suddenly the lion was in front of him staring at him with mesmerizing eyes. Elated, Jimmy pulled back on his reins. His horse danced nervously beneath him as he raised the rifle to his shoulder. 

The Kid emerged from behind a boulder and dismounted. They'd effectively trapped the animal between them.

Though he knew he should, Jimmy was too eager and too impatient to dismount.

Yowl!

Flesh quivering, Hickok's horse instinctively backed away. Despite a desperate plea from his brain to stop, Jimmy's finger squeezed the trigger. The bullet hurled down the barrel. As he watched in horror, blood splayed from the hole it dug in the Kid's shoulder. 

Paralyzed with shock, Hickok saw his friend drop to his knees. Free of the restraining hand that had held her in check, Katy bolted past Hickok and disappeared into the maze of canyons.

The Kid involuntarily cried out in pain. Attracted by the sound, the lion pounced before Jimmy could fire again. Blood-stained hands closed around the furry neck, barely able to keep the sharp teeth from a vulnerable throat. The Kid rolled trying to dislodge the heavy beast. Teeth snapped ripping a gash in his right forearm.

Jimmy lifted his rifle and aimed. The combatants rolled again. Shaking with frustration and fear, Jimmy choked on the bile filling his throat. He'd almost put another bullet into his friend. 

Claws tore across the Kid's chest. Blood flowed from the ripped flesh staining the ground.

Unwilling to fire again and risk the Kid's life, Hickok hastily dismounted. Turning the rifle around, he swung the stock at the lion's head. A scream of rage told him he'd connected. The blow propelled the animal away from its victim. Quickly discarding the destroyed rifle, Jimmy drew his pistol. He squeezed the trigger and kept squeezing until the hammer struck an empty chamber. As the life drained from the massive body, his anger died too, leaving him shaking and weak.

Holstering his weapon, Jimmy stumbled over to his injured friend. Kneeling,he tried to examine the various wounds scarring the smooth flesh. "I'm sorry, Kid. I didn't see ya 'til it was too late."

"Ya got him, Jimmy." Glazed eyes focused on the dead animal. A hand reached out trying to touch the soft fur. "Ya got him."

"Yeah," Hickok agreed through clenched teeth, "I got him, but I got you, too."

****

One hand loosely held the reins while the other rested on the brake lever. Indecision flashed across Emma's expressive face as she regarded the young blond standing next to her buckboard. "Are you sure you can handle things here, Cody?"

"What's to handle?" the cocky rider confidently returned. "Lou ain't due in 'til tomorrow afternoon. The Kid and Jimmy'll be back soon."

This reminder soothed Emma's worries - slightly. About to pull back on the brake, she stopped. "Don't forget to fix that fence in the north pasture. If Mr. Spoon buys them horses, he's gonna need a place ta put 'em."

"I know, I know," Cody reassured her. "I'll take care of everything."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Emma mumbled.

A smile that sent a chill up Emma's spine curled Cody's lips as he urged, "Ya better get goin' Emma. Ya don't want Mrs. Draper ta be alone when she has her first baby."

Emma bit her lip as she reluctantly pulled back the brake. With Buck and Ike in Laramie with Teaspoon buying a new string of horses, Cody would be left alone to keep an eye on the station. It was a responsibility she wasn't sure the young man could handle. Though he was learning, Cody still had a tendency to put his own wants and needs above anyone else's. It was a selfish streak that had her worried, even though she had a feeling it was something he would never out-grow. Normally, she found the trait endearing, but to be truthful, it made it difficult for her to trust him.

She let her eyes rest fondly on the flower garden she'd nurtured all summer. The hot dry air had fought her attempts in the past, but this time, she'd triumphed. She was proud of her achievement - and worried about what she'd find when she got back. "Don't forget ta water the garden at least twice a day."

Another pair of eyes regarded the small plot with barely disguised disdain. "I'll guard it with my life," Cody mockingly promised.

"See that you do," Emma warned, not fooled by his pledge. "I'll see ya in a few days."

"A few days!" Cody gasped, "I thought you'd only be gone a few hours. How long does it take to have a baby?"

"There is no time limit, Cody."

"But who's gonna make dinner?"

Emma smiled as she slapped the reins, "You are."

"I can't cook," Cody protested, running along side the buckboard.

"Then I guess you'll starve," Emma unsympathetically observed, "or learn real fast."

****

Hickok rested his head on the Kid's back letting the cotton shirt absorb the sweat dripping from his face. He was exhausted. The arms circling his unconscious friend, holding him in the saddle, ached with a pain he refused to acknowledge. It was only physical pain. It couldn't compete with his mental anguish. If the Kid died, he was solely responsible. The Kid was as light as a feather compared to the weight of his guilt.

" _Amazing grace how sweet the sound . . ."_

The lovely voice, carried along by the hot breeze, reached Hickok's ears. Raising his head, he looked back down the road they had just traveled. Bumping along over the rough trail was a covered wagon. The sight shocked him. They rarely saw settlers this far north. Eager to reach the California gold fields, they usually followed the Oregon Trail west.

" _I once was-s-s lost, but now am found, was-s-s blind, but now I see . . ."_

Reins held loosely in her hands, a young girl sang to the mules pulling the wagon. An elderly gentlemen sat beside her. His eyes were closed, but his head bobbed in time with the music. Their clothes displayed an affluence not normally attributed to homesteaders. Intrigued, Hickok eased his horse sideways blocking the road. Their timely arrival could save the Kid's life.

Fear flashed across the girl's face as she pulled back on the reins, "Whoa." Distrust turned to concern when her eyes rested on the body held protectively in Hickok's arms. "Oh, dear! Father, that boy's hurt."

The older man scrambled off the wagon and hurried to Hickok's side. "What happened,?" he asked, a heavy Irish accent making him difficult to understand.

"He's been shot and mauled by a mountain lion," Hickok explained, lowering the Kid into the waiting arms. "My horse is exhausted. Could you help me get him home?"

Gently easing the Kid to the ground, the older man examined the wounds, "This boy needs a doctor."

"Our station's just a few miles down the road," Hickok said, dismounting. "If we can get him there, I can send someone for the doctor."

"Then by all means, let's be on our way."

Together the two lifted the injured boy and carried him to the wagon. Hickok was grateful when he found that the girl had already lowered the gate.

Inside, he found the same opulence that the couple's clothes had suggested. The soft feather mattress would make the remainder of the journey more comfortable for the Kid.

The wagon jerked into motion almost toppling Hickok into an open suitcase. As he pulled himself upright, an arm came around him and slammed down the lid. Jimmy blushed when he realized the case had contained women's unmentionables. To cover his embarrassment, he stuttered an introduction, "I'm Jimmy Hickok and this here is the Kid. We're riders for the Pony Express."

"Oh, how wonderful," the girl enthused. Crawling to the front of the wagon, she stuck her head through the opening, "Did you hear that Papa?"

"I did child." The deep voice was full of warmth and reproach, "Don't you think you should see to that boy's wounds?"

"Of course," the mortified girl agreed. Rummaging through one of the other suitcases, she pulled out a basket with first-aid supplies. While she worked, she belatedly completed the introductions, "I'm Sheila Reardon and that's my father," she finished nodding toward the front of the wagon.

"Are you lost?" Hickok asked.

"I don't think so," Sheila said, gently wiping dried blood from around one of the puncture wounds. "We were told to head north from Fort Bridger. We want to see the geysers."

"Why?" 

"Cause we've never seen one."

"It's a long way to go to see water spoutin' into the air."

Before Sheila could defend their actions, her father called, "Is this your station, Mr. Hickok?"

Relief filled Jimmy as he peered out through the canvas opening and saw the familiar buildings. Emma would know what to do for the Kid. As they drew nearer, his stomach twisted in knots. The station looked deserted. Where was everybody?

The wagon slowed to a crawl before finally stopping in front of the bunkhouse. "Do ya want me ta stop here or up at the house?" Reardon asked.

"Here's fine," Jimmy decided. Normally, when one of them was injured, Emma insisted that they stay with her. Unable to ask her permission, Jimmy didn't feel it was proper to invade her privacy. Lowering the wagon's gate, he called, "Help me get the Kid inside."

Entering the building, the two men found themselves almost blind after staring so long into the sunlight. Laying the Kid on Buck's bunk, Jimmy grabbed one of Emma's paring knives and cut away the remainder of the buckskin shirt. Throwing the pieces into a corner, he moved aside to allow Sheila access to the deeper cuts. He winced with sympathetic pain when he saw the bottle of alcohol in her hands. He desperately prayed the Kid wouldn't choose this particular moment to regain consciousness. Thundering hooves drew him outside where he almost ran into Cody.

"What's goin' on?" the blond rider inquired, pointing to the covered wagon.

"Where's Emma?" Jimmy frantically countered, grabbing the other boy's arm.

"She had ta go help Mrs. Draper. Her baby's due any time."

Jimmy bit his lip, "The Kid's hurt."

"How bad?" Cody demanded, trying to push past his friend and enter the bunkhouse.

"He's been shot," Hickok said, pulling Cody back.

Anger flushed Cody's face as he tried to pull away from the restraining arm, "Who shot 'im?"

"I did."

The simple admission drained Cody's resistance. "Why?"

"It was an accident," Jimmy desperately replied, his fingers curling into fists. "He needs a doctor."

"I'll be back as soon as I can." Cody threw himself back up on his horse and spurred him into a canter.

Bowing his head, Jimmy leaned against a support beam and closed his eyes. Even without hearing the facts, Cody hadn't doubted him. Maybe, the Kid wouldn't either. A hand on his shoulder made him instinctively reach for his gun.

"Sheila made some coffee," Emmett Reardon said, holding a cup in each hand. "I thought it might make you feel better."

"Thanks," Hickok gratefully accepted the hot liquid even as his eyes followed the receding figures of horse and rider.

"Your friend's injury isn't your fault, Mr. Hickok."

Jimmy angrily pushed away from the pole, "I shoulda dismounted before I fired."

"A man can only do what he thinks is right at the time."

"I guess I'm not much of a man, then. At the time I wasn't thinkin' at all. If I had, the Kid wouldn't be in there dyin'."

"You don't know that." The older man's accent thickened with his concern.

"It's the only thing I do know," Jimmy whispered. Throwing the remainder of his coffee into the dust, he turned to re-enter the bunkhouse. "It's gettin' late. You and daughter are welcome to stay. You'll find food and water for your mules in the barn."

"Thank you, Mr. Hickok."

Jimmy flinched, his own name causing him pain, "Please call me Jimmy."

Desperate to escape the man's almost suffocating goodwill, Jimmy went back into the bunkhouse. He immediately crossed to the Kid and knelt next to the bed. The dried blood had been washed away. Clean bandages concealed the ugliest wounds. Blood stained the white cotton covering the small hole on the Kid's left shoulder. The proximity of the wound to the heart made Jimmy shudder.

"Would you like another cup of coffee?"

Hickok shook his head as he handed the girl his empty cup, "No, thank you." His throat had tightened so much he wasn't sure he could swallow."

"He's going to be all right you know."

An encouraging hand rested briefly on Hickok's shoulder. Looking up at the innocent face, he bit back the angry retort that had come to his lips. Instead, he said, "I want to thank you for all you and your father have done."

Blushing, Sheila turned back to the sandwiches she had been preparing when Hickok came in. "We're glad we could help."

"Tell me about yourself," Hickok urged, desperate to escape the guilt-ridden terrors haunting him. "All I know about you is that your father is obviously Irish."

"He came over here steerage when he was very young," Sheila proudly explained. "He started out digging coal in the Pennsylvania mines. A few months ago, he retired as President of the company."

"What brings you out here?"

"My father loves to read the periodicals. They're very enthusiastic about the West."

"Oh, yes," Hickok bitterly agreed, remembering his own encounter with a dime novelist named Marcus. "Cody likes to read them, too. One particular phrase he read out loud to us bragged about our giant mountains, vast deserts and dazzling sunsets. A matchless paradise under a canopy of stars."

The door opened admitting Emmett Reardon and the unmistakable sound of a rider coming in.

"Someone's coming," Reardon unnecessarily announced.

Already on his feet, Hickok rushed outside. In the dim light of the setting sun, he saw the rider was Cody. "Where's the doctor?" Hickok angrily demanded, practically dragging the other boy off his horse.

"I ran into Matt Fleming," Cody breathlessly explained. "He says the Doc's out at his place tendin' his baby sister."

"Why didn't you go get 'im?"

"I thought you might need me," Cody quickly defended himself. "Matt's gonna tell the Doc to come on here 'fore he heads to the Draper's."

"The Kid could be dead by the time he gets here."

Cody calmly pointed out, "The Doc wouldn't get here any sooner if I'd gone after 'im myself."

Jimmy pounded his fist against his thigh. Biting his lip, he reluctantly agreed, "I know."

A frown wrinkling her pretty face, Sheila asked, "Why don't you send for another doctor?"

"There isn't one," Cody revealed.

"There are all the mountains, deserts and sunsets any one could want," Hickok bitterly recited, "but there isn't another doctor for a hundred miles. Periodicals don't write that for people to read."

Hickok's angry words hung in the air even after he'd torn the reins out of Cody's hands. His steps were heavy as he led the sweaty animal to the barn. He had to do something - anything - or he would surely go mad.

****

Emmett Reardon pushed away his plate and the half-eaten sandwich it contained. He shook his head at the frown on his daughter's face and pulled out his pipe. At the other end of the table, Cody grabbed another sandwich and took a big bite. He looked as though he didn't have a care in the world. Emmett knew the impression was deceiving. Bright blue eyes continually rested on either his injured friend or the door. Hickok had yet to return from his self imposed task.

These boys amazed Emmett. Though only a few years younger than Sheila, they seemed much older. Since they were Pony Express riders, he knew they must be orphans. Was it this,or the harsh life on the frontier that had made them grow-up so fast? Yet, for all the independence they displayed, it was their dependence on one another that impressed him.

Sheila opened the door and stared out at the barn. "He'd taking this very hard."

"Don't let Jimmy see you've noticed," Cody advised, around a mouth-full of food.

"He'd blaming himself," Emmett explained, stuffing his pipe. "I shudder to think what might happen if the Kid should die."

"Maybe I should see if Jimmy's all right?" Sheila suggested, edging out the door.

Moving faster than his age would seem to allow, Emmett crossed the space separating them. "You can't help the lad find what he's looking for Sheila, girl. You'll only confuse him more."

"What do you think he's lookin' for out in the barn?" Cody asked.

"Redemption."

"Do you think he'll find it?"

"Not without help." Pulling his daughter back inside, Emmett gently pushed her toward the table. "Sit down and have something to eat, child."

Emmett waited only long enough to see his suggestion had been obeyed, before he stepped outside. He got his bearings in the unfamiliar surroundings, then closed the door. The first stars had begun to appear lighting his path with a soft glow. It was a beautiful night. If it weren't for the fear that seemed to touch every corner of the station, he'd almost say it was a perfect night.

The lamp just inside the barn door gave off enough light to reveal the dejected figure leaning against a stall door. Stooping, Emmett picked up a piece of hay. Raising the funnel on the lamp, he stuck one end of it into the dancing flame. When it was burning brightly, he touched the tip to the tobacco in his pipe and puffed until he was confident the fire wouldn't go out. Dropping the burning twig on the ground, he stepped on it smothering the small flame. "I wish I could do something to bring you comfort. All that comes to mind is that phrase by Thoreau: The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. Think about it. You'll find you're not alone."

There was no indication from the still figure that he'd been heard. Sighing with disappointment, Emmett kicked dirt over the smoldering twig to prevent it from re-igniting. Standing in the open doorway, he took deep breaths of the clean air and listened to the concert performed by the crickets and beetles. City life had almost deafened him to the wondrous music of nature.

The music changed as a new sound intruded. The clop, clop of horses hooves was almost lost in the squeaks and groans of an old buggy.

"Doc's here," Hickok shouted, rushing past the older man.

A prayer on his lips that everything would be all right, Emmett slowly followed the boy. By the time he reached the bunkhouse, a tall, slim gentlemen about his own age was climbing down from the buggy.

"Evenin', Doc," Cody politely greeted him.

Ignoring the pleasantries, Doctor Hickman rushed inside to his patient. He'd been to this station often enough, he knew where to go. "Matt Fleming said the Kid was shot."

"That's right," Hickok quietly acknowledged, following the physician. "He was mauled by a mountain lion, too."

"Was there any sign of rabies in the lion?"

"No."

"I washed the cuts with alcohol," Sheila offered, pointing to the bottle sitting on the table. "I was a volunteer in a hospital back home."

Pulling off the bandages, Hickman examined the wounds. "Good thinking, young lady. If this boy makes it he'll have you to thank."

"Will h-he," Hickok stutteringly clarified, "make it?"

"He's a mighty sick boy." Hickman wrote something on a sheet of paper. When he finished, he handed it to Cody, "Take this to Tompkins."

Cody cringed, "He'll be asleep by the time I get to Sweetwater."

"Wake him," the doctor ruthlessly ordered, "unless you'd rather stay here and watch your friend die?"

"I'm on my way," Cody replied, stuffing the paper into his pocket and grabbing his hat. Throwing the door open, he let it bang against the wall as he rushed out.

Emmett smiled and crossed to stand in the doorway where he watched Cody run across to the barn. Shaking his head, he closed the door, "That boy certainly does things with enthusiasm."

"What's Cody goin' after?" Hickok demanded.

"Medicine," Hickman explained, "to bring the Kid's fever down."

"Won't getting that bullet out help?" Sheila asked, placing a pan of hot water at the physician's feet.

"It'll help some," the doctor replied, taking his instruments out of his bag and dropping them into the pan. "That medicine will help more. If I'd been able to get here sooner, it would've been a different story. Infection's set in."

Desperation clearly audible in his voice, Hickok demanded, "Isn't there anything else we can do?"

"We're doing it, son," Hickman quietly assured him. Taking a piece of wood from his bag, he wrapped it with a strip of cloth. "We're gonna get that bullet out."

"What can I do?" Emmett quickly offered.

Hickman put the wood in the Kid's slack mouth. "If you would hold his legs, Jimmy can hold his arms. When I start digging, it's gonna hurt some. Whatever you do, you gotta keep him quiet."

Taking his position, Emmett sadly allowed his eyes to rest on the unconscious boy. He was far to young to be on such intimate terms with death.

Blood flowed beneath the skilled hands as the knife dug into the soft flesh.

The body beneath Emmett's hands suddenly came alive. A scream from deep inside the Kid's throat was muffled by the block of wood. This first cry was followed by another and then another as the tortured mind sought to escape the excruciating pain. Compassion filled Emmett's heart as he watched Hickok try to avoid the pleading blue eyes of his friend. Knowing he was the cause of the suffering had to be tearing the lad up inside.

It felt like hours, but it could only have been minutes, before the tormented body relaxed into the healing escape of oblivion. Emmett eased his grip, flexing each finger in turn. Every muscle in his arms ached. Injured or not, the lad was strong. A splash and the clank of metal against metal told him the operation was all but over.

"You can let him go now," Hickman said, confirming Emmett's supposition.

Suppressing a groan, Emmett straightened, stretching stiff muscles before sitting on a bench at the table. He hoped his weakness didn't show. His hopes were dashed when his gaze rested on his daughter's face. Her frown made it clear she knew exactly how much the ordeal had cost him.

"Make sure the Kid takes that medicine as soon as Cody gets back," Hickman instructed, placing a clean bandage over the wound. "I'll try to get back to look in on him sometime tomorrow."

"You're not leavin'?" Hickok angrily protested, his hand hovering over the butt of his pearl handle revolver.

"I have too," Hickman said, staring down the younger man. "Mrs. Draper is due at any time. It could be a breech birth."

"How bad is the Kid?" Hickok breathlessly demanded.

The doctor put his instruments back in his bag before admitting, "Real bad. I'm counting on his constitution and that medicine to save him. With, a little help from God."

"And there's nothing you can do?" Hickok pressed.

Hickman wearily rose to his feet. "Nothing at the moment. But, I'll tell you this, if I'm not there when Maggie Draper's time comes, both she and her baby are goners. Now, you tell me, what should I do?"

Defeated, Hickok backed down. Retreating to a window, he stared out into the darkness looking for solace.

Sheila crossed to his side. Ignoring her father's frown, she put a hand on Hickok's arm, "Don't be upset."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jimmy snapped, pulling away. "I'm not upset. After all, we still have all those wonderful sunsets."

****

The moon slipped behind a cloud forcing Cody to slow down. When it partially reappeared, he didn't increase his speed. He'd seen the vague shadow of riders ahead. His experience running mail for the Pony Express made him cautious of travelers on the road at this time of night. The cloud floated away revealing three men. One of them was leading a familiar paint. "Katy!" Cody gasped.

The men pulled up effectively blocking the trail. "You know this horse, boy?"

"Yeah," Cody cautiously acknowledged. "She belongs to a friend of mine."

"I'd like ta talk ta this friend," the man growled, his deep voice dropping lower.

"He's hurt. I'm on my way to town now to get his medicine."

"What happened to him?"

"He got shot."

A cloud passed across the moon momentarily enveloping them in darkness. When it moved on, it revealed the three men had surrounded Cody. Continuing his role as spokesman, Deep Voice asked, "Did this happen up in the Mount Pelier gorge section?"

"That's right," Cody admitted, carefully keeping his hand away from his gun. He didn't want to start something he couldn't finish. Unlike Hickok, he backed down when he was outnumbered. "How did you know?"

"We're tryin' ta build up a little spread out that way. This horse busted through our fences, stampeded a herd of wild horses we'd just rounded up, and then scattered our cattle."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry don't pay the cost of fixin' our place."

"How much do you reckon would?" Cody asked, wondering if he could buy the men off with the five dollar gold piece in his boot.

"One thousand dollars."

"A thousand!" Cody incredulously repeated.

Scratching his stubby chin with a dirty hand, Deep Voice nodded. "And not a penny less."

"Teaspoon Hunter is the local representative for Russell, Majors and Waddell. He should be back by the end of the week. I'll be happy to pass on your request."

"We want our money now." Deep Voice urged his horse in closer to Cody.

"I can't give ya what I ain't got."

"Why don't we just head back to that station of yours and see?"

Impatient to be on his way, Cody protested, "I don't have time for this."

Laying his heels into his horse, Cody bent low over the saddle, just as Teaspoon had taught him. Taken by surprise, the three men had all they could do to regain control of their mounts as Cody pushed through them. Cody smiled with satisfaction as curses - instead of bullets - followed in his wake.

****

A small cloud of smoke hung around Emmett's head blurring his view of the star lit sky. He puffed gently on his pipe. If it weren't for his concern for the young boy fighting for his life inside the bunkhouse, he would've been content. This wasn't the first time in his life he had traveled to an untamed wilderness. But, it would be the last. He was determined to see everything there was to see.

The bunkhouse door opened. Light escaped washing out the stars. Emmett didn't need to look to know his daughter was coming out to check on him. He was surprised it had taken her this long. The worry he caused her was the only bane of his existence. "Any change?"

"The fever's still high," Sheila said, closing the door.

"How's Jimmy holding up?"

"He's worried sick. Blaming himself for what happened." Sitting on the porch next to her father, Sheila unnecessarily defended him, "It wasn't his fault. It was an accident."

Puffing on his pipe, Emmett didn't answer right away. When he did, it was with a heavy heart. "Jimmy doesn't like to admit it, not even to himself, but he's sensitive. Some men are willing to bear their responsibility, while others shrug it off. Our Jimmy is a shower who thinks he's a shrugger. He feels deep personal guilt."

"I've seen the pain and agony on his face," Sheila softly admitted, leaning against her father's shoulder. "Why does he stay here?"

"It's his home." Emmett was surprised Sheila hadn't seen that for herself. To Russell, Majors and Waddell, James Butler Hickok was classified as an orphan. In reality, that was no longer true. The Kid was as important to him as any flesh and blood brother.

"Because he is sensitive, he should be somewhere else," Sheila argued. "Back East, maybe."

It pained Emmett to hear the hope in her voice. Nothing could ever come of the love she was nurturing for the younger man. It wasn't the age difference that would come between them. It was attitude. Sheila didn't want to see it, but Hickok was a man of the West - and he always would be.

Pounding hooves rose above the chirping crickets. Though he wasn't positive, Emmett thought he counted four horses. "Go get, Jimmy, lass," he ordered knocking the tobacco from his pipe and rising.

The door opened before Sheila reached it. Hickok emerged with a lamp in his hand. Hanging it on a nail sticking from one of the porch beams, he stepped back into the shadows presenting as indistinct a target as possible. Three men reined in their horses at the edge of the pool of light.

"What can I do for ya?" Jimmy asked, his hands resting close to his sidearms.

"My name is Dowd," a man with a deep voice said. "These are my friends, Reynolds and Peterson." Pushing his hat off his forehead, Dowd led a paint mare into the light. "We ran into one of your riders headin' into town. He said this here mare belongs to the Pony Express."

"Not officially," Hickok corrected, stepping forward and taking Katy's reins. "One of the riders owns her."

"I'd like ta talk ta 'im."

"Whaddya want ta talk about?"

Emmett watched the conversation with interest. He had never seen men like this before. He didn't trust them. They appeared hard, ready to take what they wanted if it wasn't given to them.

Backing his horse so the shadows fell across his pock-marked face, Dowd explained, "His horse ruined our land, stampeded some valuable stock. Somebody's gotta pay."

"How much?" Jimmy asked, turning Katy so she stood between him and the three men.

"Three thousand dollars."

"How many head did you lose?"

"One hundred and fifty."

Always good with figures, Emmett quickly calculated the price of the cattle. "At four dollars a head, that only comes to six hundred dollars."

"They were worth fifteen a head to us, Mister," Dowd growled. "'sides, some buildin's got trampled. Russell, Majors and Waddell is a rich company. They can afford ta pay."

Handing Katy's reins to Emmett, Jimmy stepped away from the animal. "You'll have to wait."

"For what?" Dowd demanded.

"For Teaspoon Hunter," Hickok calmly explained, resting his hands on his guns. "He's the local representative for the Pony Express. He'll check your claim and give ya a fair settlement."

"We want our money now!"

"You can't have it now." With lightening speed, Jimmy drew his guns. "I'll give ya ten seconds to get off this station."

"We'll go." Dowd pointed his finger at the young gunslinger. "But you'll pay."

Jimmy wasn't frightened by the threat; he was angry. He desperately fought for the control Teaspoon had been teaching him, taking deep breaths to free his mind of the hate. A hand on his shoulder brought him back from the spirit world he'd so briefly embraced. He was loathe to leave the solace it offered.

"Don't let those men upset you," Emmett soothed. "People like that are always looking for the easy dollar."

"Please, Mr. Reardon," Jimmy bitterly protested. "I'm not in the mood."

"Sorry," Emmett softly apologized. "I meant no harm. If you're Irish, how can ya not interfere in other people's affairs?"

Retrieving Katy's reins, Jimmy walked her to the barn. He heard footsteps behind him, but he wasn't frightened. Though he'd known her a short time, he already recognized Sheila's light step. At another time and in another place, he would welcome her attention. Here, and now, it only made his guilt more pronounced. "I'm sorry for the way I treated your father."

"I'm sure he understands, what with things piling onto one another." Sheila's soft voice suddenly grew hard, "How do you stand this horrible country?"

Surprised by the hostility twisting her pretty face, Hickok said, "I thought you liked it here."

"I hate it!" Sheila gritted her teeth. "I've hated it since the moment I saw it. Our wagon train stopped near a small town in Kansas. There was a beautiful old oak tree right in the center of town. A man was hanging from its branches. Flies had eaten away his eyelids. They hung him because he stole four head of cattle."

Leading Katy into a stall, Jimmy checked her over to be sure she hadn't hurt herself. "Then why did you come out here?"

"Because of my father."

"He wanted to come?"

"I insisted."

Puzzled, Jimmy stopped his inspection and rested his eyes on the older woman, "I don't understand."

"My father's going to die soon." Sheila stopped momentarily overcome with emotion. Regaining her composure, she said, "Half a life time of swallowing coal dust in the Pennsylvania mines has finally caught up with him. The doctor told me he might live a little longer if he had a change. He needed a clean invigorating climate."

"Jimmy poured grain into Katy's feed bin. "Does he know?"

"Not entirely," Sheila wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and forced a smile. "He calls it the Pennsylvania chest. How can I tell him the truth?" 

"What if he gets better?"

There was no hesitation in her reply, "Then I'll stay here permanently."

"Even though you feel the way you do?"

"He's my father."

Hickok shook his head in amazement and wonder, "We never know about folks do we?"

"We have a lot in common." Sheila put her hand on Jimmy's, "Don't we?"

****

Cody patted the medicine in his pocket to make sure it was still there. If it dropped out, it would almost be impossible to find in the darkness. He could hardly wait to reach the station and pass the responsibility for the vial onto someone else.

Sweat flew into his face, reminding him he had been pushing his mount hard. Stilling impatient nerves, he pulled back on the reins and eased the animal down to a walk.

"Get off your horse."

The click of a hammer being cocked convinced Cody he should obey the order. Pulling to a stop, he slid out of the saddle.

"Get his gun." Dowd waved his weapon at Peterson indicating that the other man should complete the task. "Then, get the medicine."

"You can't do that," Cody protested, his meekness disappearing. "My friend needs it bad."

"We need our damage money bad," Dowd shouted at him. "You can have the medicine for three thousand dollars."

"No!" Cody refused, pushing Peterson away.

"You and your friends are going to find out that the price of medicine as gone up," Dowd mercilessly said.

Cody tried to throw himself back into the saddle. He knew it was a futile gesture that could get him killed. Even if he made it, the exhausted animal was no match for the homesteader's fresher horses. One foot slipped into a stirrup before he felt the butt of a pistol strike the top of his head. His vision blurred. Somehow, the dark night became darker. He fell back to the ground. A rough hand rummaged through his pockets. His mind desperately instructed his body to fight back, but to no avail. Peterson's cry of triumph when he discovered the vial tore at Cody's heart. Would his failure to deliver the medicine result in the Kid's death?

****

Jimmy twisted the wet compress removing the excess water, before he laid it on the Kid's forehead. As the fever rose, so did his restlessness.

"Sheila thought you could use some fresh water," Emmett said, replacing the old pan with a new one. "The fever hasn't gone down?"

"It's higher," Hickok shortly stated. Though he welcomed the cooler water, the older man's attitude irritated him, almost making him wish he hadn't invited them to stay.

"It probably means something inside him is fighting hard," Emmett encouraged.

Frustrated, Jimmy snapped, "Is there never a bad side to anything with you?"

"I try not to ignore the facts, but there's also hope. When that medicine gets here, the Kid's life will be in the hands of God and science, two staunch allies."

"You always have ready-made answers for everything, don't you," Jimmy angrily declared. He regretted his impulsive words as soon as he'd spoken them. It was too late. He could no more take them back than he could wipe the hurt from the Irishman's face. Jimmy writhed, regret eating at his insides. Without a word, Reardon turned away and walked out past his daughter.

Her gaze followed her father, before settling on Hickok. "Has my father been upsetting you?"

"It didn't take much," Jimmy confessed.

The Kid's moaning increased. Lost in the horrors of his fever, his head thrashed throwing off the compress. "Get 'im off me, Jimmy!"

Hickok tried to restrain his friend. The numerous cuts made it difficult to find a place to hold him without inflicting more pain or re-opening a wound.

"Get 'im off me!"

The plea tore at Jimmy making him want to run.

"I'm shot!"

"It's not right," Sheila cried, tears running down her cheeks. "All this waiting. All the suffering. No doctor. No medicine. What chance does he have?"

The hoarse voice screamed, "I'm shot!"

Feeling helpless, Jimmy was grateful for the distraction when Reardon re-entered the room.

"Someone rode into the barn," the older man warned. "I couldn't see who it was."

Retrieving the holster he had discarded when he sat down to tend to the Kid, Jimmy quickly buckled it around his hip. This kind of threat he could deal with. He'd only taken a couple of steps toward the door when Cody pushed past Reardon.

"They took the Kid's medicine." Removing his hat, Cody rubbed the knot on the back of his head, "They ambushed me and got it."

"Are you hurt?" Jimmy guiltily demanded.

"Just a bit of a headache."

The assurance restored Hickok's confidence. "Who took the medicine?"

"Three men who say Katy is responsible for a lot of damage done to their spread."

"I met 'em." 

Her face pale, Sheila gasped, "You mean they're holding the Kid's medicine for ransom? How can they do a thing like that?"

"You tried to tell me," Jimmy bitterly replied, checking his gun to make sure it was loaded, "but I wouldn't listen. Out here, it's a jungle for animals and savages where one tries to destroy the other."

Cody shifted uncomfortably, "Ease up a bit, Jimmy."

"Ease up! Yeah, I'll ease up. When this is all over, I'm goin' away some place where a man can live like a decent human being." Grabbing his hat, Hickok growled, "But first, I've got something to do. Come on Cody, we're gonna get that medicine back."

Her face flushed with conflicting emotions, Sheila pleaded, "Don't go, Jimmy. Don't let those men reduce you to their level."

"Let him go, child," Reardon commanded. "They have to get the Kid's medicine. They're not going out there to kill."

The window above the Kid's head shattered. Shards of glass made small cuts in the exposed flesh. The rock that had broken the window slammed into Jimmy's back driving him to his knees.

Breathless, he gasped, "Douse the lamp."

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Jimmy crawled to the broken window. Rising, he glanced outside. There was nothing to see.

"We want our money," Dowd called.

"I'm tellin' ya we ain't got it," Hickok shouted back.

"We know that's a lie. What's the matter, ain't yer friend worth it? We want the money now or we'll let him die."

"I can't give ya what I ain't got."

A bullet clipped the edge of the window shredding the wood. "Get down," Jimmy ordered, returning fire.

Cody took up a position at one of the front windows, knocking out the glass with the barrel of his rifle. Gunfire passed through the hole making him duck.

"Can you shoot a rifle, Mr. Reardon?" Jimmy asked.

"I'm not good," the Irishman admitted, "but I'm willing."

Retrieving the rifle Buck kept under his bunk, Hickok handed it to the older man. "Just remember to keep your head down."

Reardon scooted to the door. He had only opened it a couple of inches when bullets plowed into the frame. Undaunted, he stuck the barrel outside and returned fire.

A muzzle flash located one of the raiders. Aiming his pistol at the position, Jimmy squeezed the trigger. A satisfying scream of pain told him his shot had found its target. Another scream indicated Cody had also been successful. Jimmy barely had time to hope his friend's deaths would discourage the third gunman when Reardon laid down his rifle and raised his hands.

Dowd slowly entered the room, his gun at Reardon's head. Jimmy realized the rancher must have crawled along the base of the building out of sight of both Cody and Reardon.

"Drop your guns," Dowd ordered.

Given no choice, Hickok and Cody complied.

"No more talk, I want my money."

Before Jimmy could respond to the tired refrain, Reardon swiveled knocking the gun from Dowd's hand. Jimmy retrieved his own pistol before the gunman could recover.

"Mr. Reardon, would you get the medicine?" While he waited for the older man, Jimmy let the exhaustion and fear he had been holding at bay wash over him. His eyes burning, he stared at Dowd. "If this doesn't save the Kid's life, I'm going to kill you."

His search finally successful, Reardon handed the precious vial to his daughter.

"I'll lock our guest in the tack room," Cody offered, pressing the barrel of his rifle into Dowd's back.

Hickok dropped his gun no longer able to hold its weight. "Mr. Reardon," he marveled, "I don't know when I've seen such courage."

"It wasn't so courageous," Emmett softly proclaimed, shaking legs forcing him to sit down. "You see, I'm dying anyway. I had nothing to lose. Sheila brought me out here hoping the climate would cure me, but sure and its not going to make a bit of difference." A soft cry from the young girl drew his eyes to her face. "Well, now you know, Child. You're not as smart as you thought you were."

"Do you know what you are?" A quivering smile broke through the tears. "You're an old fraud."

The door flew open. Even as he went for his gun, Jimmy knew he would be too late. He closed his eyes in relief when he saw who the intruder was.

"Who are you?" Sam Cain demanded, aiming his gun at the Reardons.

"It's all right, Sam," Jimmy quickly soothed the Marshal. "They're friends."

"Tompkins woke me," Sam said, explaining his presence. "He claims Cody got some medicine from him. Said the Kid had been shot. I heard gunfire as I rode up."

"Three men stole the medicine from Cody. We got two of 'em. Cody's locking the third in the tackroom."

Crossing to where the Kid lay tossing on the bunk, Sam asked, "Did they shoot the Kid?"

"No, I did."

"You!"

"It was an accident," Jimmy hastily defended himself.

Sam put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, "I already knew that."

Tears filled Jimmy's eyes. He deeply respected Sam Cain. To have this man's trust was an honor he wasn't sure he deserved. "The Kid could die because I was too lazy to get off my horse."

"I'm sure you did what you thought was right at the time," Sam soothed.

"That's what you told me," Hickok said in a hushed voice, his eyes resting on Reardon.

Emmett smiled encouragingly, "Nothing will happen to the Kid if God keeps close tonight."

****

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Jimmy couldn't figure out why. It felt like he had just fallen asleep. Raising his head, he mumbled, "I'm awake."

Unconvinced, Sheila shook him harder. "The Kid is calling for you."

Feeling as though he had just been doused with a bucket of cold water, Jimmy pushed away from the table and stumbled to his feet. As soon as he reached the bunk, he knelt near his friend's head. Relief swamped him as he stared into the clear blue eyes. "Welcome back, Kid."

"Nice shooting, Jimmy."

Hickok flinched.

"You really clobbered that lion. He's not gonna be touchin' our horses again."

"I also shot you," Jimmy reminded him.

"True," the Kid conceded. "May I make a suggestion?"

Puzzled, Jimmy nodded assent.

"Get off your horse, then shoot," the Kid proposed, with a twinkle in his eye. "Not the other way around."

"Believe me," Hickok heartily agreed, "next time I will."

The Kid's eyes blinked rapidly, fighting sleep. "You got him, that's the important thing."

"If you say so," Jimmy agreed, though only with words. In his heart, he knew what was really important. "Why don't you go back to sleep?" 

"Okay." Eyelids closed over clouded blue eyes. "Maybe for a little while."

Even breathing told Jimmy that the Kid had fallen asleep. It was a few minutes before he could speak past the lump in his throat. Rubbing his eyes to hide the tears, he asked, "Is he gonna be all right?"

"I'm not a doctor," Sheila said, kneeling next to him, "but I think so."

"God did stay close," Jimmy whispered unbelievingly.

****

"Would you like to kiss me?"

Jimmy looked into the big brown eyes. He was glad Sheila and her father were leaving. He was grateful to them for what they had done, but they were reminders of what he had done. He didn't want any reminders. His eyes briefly rested on the sleeping Kid. However, not wanting to hurt her, he bent down and kissed her.

"Thank you, kind, sir." She curtsied and smiled prettily. "For a while, I had a dream I was cooking up. It was silly of me, wasn't it? Imagine James Butler Hickok being happy with social teas and Sunday promenades back in old Philadelphia."

"Don't you think I'd fit in?" Jimmy asked.

"Not with your heart back here."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I knew this morning when the Kid called for you. So did you."

Truthfully, Jimmy had known long before that. He had known even before he shot the mountain lion, though he'd fought it. He hadn't been looking for a family when he signed on with the Pony Express, but he had found one anyway. It was too late now to change his mind. They had all become too important to him.

"Sheila!"

The young woman sighed, "I better go, Daddy's waiting."

Jimmy gallantly took her arm and escorted her out to where Emmett Reardon had pulled up their wagon. He hoped it didn't show, but he felt a great sense of relief as he helped her up onto the wagon seat.

"We'll remember you and your father," Cody called up to her.

"Hopefully better than you remembered to water Emma's garden," Sam muttered.

"Garden!" Cody cried, "I've got to water the garden."

Hickok's smile as he watched Cody race off to accomplish his task disappeared as his gaze returned to the Reardons. "I want to thank you again for all you've done."

"I've never seen such a collection of faces," Emmett Reardon accused. "As long as a rainy Sunday. Come on Sheila, girl, give us a song."

"When at first I saw Sally, it was on market day . . ."


End file.
